Among the Eorlingas
by Danigirltuesday
Summary: The War of the Ring was a time of unlikely heroes—a hobbit tasked with an important quest, a race of forgotten tree folk defending their forest, and a shield maiden in the midst of a great battle. What difference could a single horse make? Modern adult woman in Middle Earth with a twist. Not a 10th Walker or M-Sue.
1. This Isn't Where I Parked my Car

**_When you're drowning, you don't say 'I would be incredibly pleased if someone would have the foresight to notice me drowning and come and help me,' you just scream. – John Lennon_**

* * *

**__****Chapter 1: This Isn't Where I Parked my Car**

"This is incredible." Veronica murmured. Gingerly, she turned the pages of a hand illustrated edition of _Peter and Wendy_ by J.M. Barrie. She was seated across from Alice, the owner of the bookstore, at the help desk. Alice had been watching her admiration of the book with a kindred sense of amusement from behind thick glasses.

"Attention customers, the time is now 10:50PM. The store will be closing in ten minutes. Please bring any items you wish to purchase to the front."

A voice came over the loud speaker in the bookstore rattling Veronica out of the world of Wendy Darling and her brothers and back to reality.

"Consider it a thank you gift," Alice said. Already anticipating an argument from the younger woman, she held up her wrinkled hands to cut her off. "Before you argue, keep in mind that if you hadn't stepped up to help with the store, at best I would have had to close for a few months or hire someone else to manage who would have wanted a lot more money than what you were willing to do it for. Not to mention looking after Horace. Not something an old lady wants to have to worry about when she's going in for surgery."

At the sound of his name, Veronica could hear Horace, Alice's corgi, stir from behind the counter. His nails clicked on the wood floor as he came around to say hello. Veronica and Alice laughed.

"Hey, boy." Veronica scratched around his ears till he shook his head.

She accepted the book and packed up. "Thanks."

Alice nodded, "See you soon, dear."

Out the door, the cold air immediately buffeted her. The February draft made her departure from her sanctuary all the more bitter. The store was a warm haven in the city, decorated in gentle earth tones and always smelling of the musk of pages.

Veronica loved books. When the store had opened just around the corner from her apartment a few years ago, she had been delighted. More often than not, she was prone to stop in on her way home from work.

The walk was quick but Veronica's teeth were still chattering by the time she got through the front door of the apartment complex. Mercifully she was coming in behind one of her neighbors and didn't have to fumble with her keys until she got to her own door.

Inside, she could hear the muted sound of the television coming from the living room. Tina, her roommate, looked up as she padded in, her thick socks shielding her feet from the cool floor. She smiled, "Hey." The tabby cat that had been half-dozing on her lap leapt down and twined himself between Veronica's legs and mewled frantically.

Veronica snorted. "Did you feed him?"

Tina just arched her eyebrows as if to say, _what do you think?_

Shaking her head, Veronica leaned down to scratch him under the chin. "Silly." Plopping down next to her friend on the futon sofa, she looked at the TV. "Anything good?"

"_Lord of the Rings_ marathon." Tina used her foot to nudge a bowl of popcorn on the table closer to Veronica. "_The Return of the King_ just started."

Veronica grabbed a handful and watched the credits roll up. The women and cat were both asleep before the beacons of Gondor were even lit.

* * *

The moment her eyes opened Veronica knew something was awfully wrong. For one she could perfectly perceive what was to her left and right following the train of vision just past her shoulders. The area immediately in front of her however, she could not fix her gaze on.

_Oh my god, I'm having a stroke_, she thought to herself, quickly followed by, _is it possible to have a stroke at 30?!_

This discovery led to a dreaded second. She was not in bed. She was certainly not in her apartment. She was outside. Veronica felt cold sweat break across her forehead.

Veronica blinked her eyes a few times, hoping to readjust her vision. It was when she tried to bring her hands up rub her eyes that the reason behind her predicament became clear. A simple motion that was once second nature proved impossible. Her arms refused to bend.

_Not arms_, she corrected herself looking down, _legs_.

Looking down, in place of her arms, she beheld the strong and sure limbs of a horse…or possibly a donkey.

_Now there's adding insult to injury,_ she thought wryly. _Kidnap me out of my apartment, drop in the middle of nowhere, and turn me into an ass._

Then again she'd never seen a white donkey. And from what she'd seen of her legs, that was the main coloring.

Speaking of the middle of nowhere. Veronica trained a keener eye on her surroundings. She was in the midst of some sort of plain. Tall stalks of green, lush grass dominated the landscape. The grass was in constant movement, chased to and fro by a strong wind that cut across the field. The combination of the expanse of the field and the wave of the grass was oddly reminiscent of a lake or sea. If the grass was like a lake then the shore it crashed against were the two mountain ranges off in the distance. Actually the landscape was incredibly similar to pictures she'd seen in advertisements on the bus urging her to go visit Montana.

However, it was nothing like she'd ever experienced. Open spaces like this were outside her realm of experience. She was city born and bred.

_Must be a dream, _she thought_, a strange and beautiful dream…_

The horse aspect was an interesting element. Even as a kid she'd never gone through the "I wanna pony" phase. Really her only interaction with horses was when she saw the carriage drivers downtown offering rides to the tourists. They were pretty if a little smelly.

The next time the wind blew across the grass, she took note of a familiar sound it carried to her—running water.

_Hmm, might as well look around._

Getting up proved to be a new and unusual experience. Veronica began by slowly easing up onto her left foreleg followed by the right. She got her hind legs beneath her and gently rose up. On all fours, she could feel the strength and power in her body.

_Well, this is…neat._ Veronica took a few tentative steps until her body found the natural rhythm.

Veronica turned into the wind, towards where she'd heard the source of the water. She started at a walk, still adjusting to the unfamiliar gait. She took to it quickly, the 1-2-3-4 rhythm becoming easier with each step. Before long she was flying. Okay, not literally flying but for those moments when she felt all four limbs leave the ground, she certainly imagined she was. It was one of the most exhilarating things she had ever felt.

The scenery was immutable as she ran. The land just went on and on and on. She felt small.

The only difference she noted was the grass seemed a might fresher as she approached and finally reached the source of the water. The water, as it turned out, was a wide and fast flowing river. The sound of the current filled her ears. She stood at the edge for several moments, letting the spray kiss her legs.

She followed the river as it flowed downstream. She enjoyed the feeling of the wind playing with her hair, the grass caressing her sides, and the hum of the water.

However, after about an hour, the tranquility of the scene was becoming wasted on her. Veronica was having doubts she was in dreamland. Usually as she dreamed, Veronica remembered there being skips in time or odd transitions from one location to the next. Dreams were usually such a fragmented experience. But this…whatever it was, was proving to be disturbingly constant.

This train of thought led to disconcerting questions. If she wasn't dreaming then where was she and how did she get here? How could she become human again? How would she get home? With these thoughts trailing through her mind, Veronica was dimly aware that she had flattened her ears and was tucking her tail. _If this is a dream, I'd like to wake up now._

What had her dad told her when she was a kid about how to wake up from a dream? Pinch herself?

_No genius, that's to determine _if_ you are dreaming and in case you hadn't noticed, you're short a few digits._

_Think, Veronica._

After a moment of concentration the memory surfaced.

She was six years old again, in bed, holding an oversized glass of water between two small hands. Her da sat beside her, a kind if sleepy smile on his face. He was faintly illuminated by her Little Mermaid night-light. Smiling down at her, he said, "Do you want to know what the trick is for when you're having a bad a dream?"

She nodded eagerly, in awe of any wisdom he might impart in the way only a child could be.

"Dreams are kingdoms we build. They are built on our memories, wishes, and sometimes fears. But we are the architects. If you don't like your dream than stop engaging in it. It only exists as long as we give it shape. Once you take your attention…or will from it, it disappears."

Veronica took a deep breath and closed her eyes. _Wake up. Wake up. Wake up._ She strove to ignore the feeling of the grass against her flanks or the wind playing with her mane. Ignoring the sounds of the swaying grass, she waited to hear the sounds of the city—an ambulance blaring past her window, a neighbor out with an excited dog, or even the cooing of pigeons.

She opened one eye. _Nope._

Looking around dejectedly, she pondered what to do. "Stop, drop, and roll", "find a policeman," or "use your seat cushion as a flotation device" were definitely not applicable to this situation.

_Just keep breathing, just keep breathing. You can work this out. You'll be okay._

Another voice in her head scoffed, _how!?_

Unfortunately an answer was not forthcoming.

And she had another problem. She was hungry.

Veronica gave the grass a dubious look. She could probably eat it. After an experimental sniff, she found it didn't smell that bad…actually, it smelled okay.

_I wonder what it tastes like._ Another damning thought entered her mind. Didn't they warn about this in all the fairy tales? When in a strange realm don't eat the food or you'll get stuck there? Her mouth hovered over the grass as she debated.

_There's a nice thought, Veronica. I wish you hadn't come up with it._

_It's just a bit of grass, it probably doesn't count._ She snorted, _and I'm sure Persephone felt the same way about those three pomegranate seeds._

Decision made, she pulled her head back up. _I'm not that desperate._

_I need help_, she thought. Help would mean people or maybe another horse. Who knew, maybe this was a place like Equestria and everyone here was a horse. Please don't let it be like Equestria. She'd watched a few episodes of _My Little Pony_ when babysitting one of her cousins and had come out of the experience, feeling like she had a better idea of what it was like to be bi-polar.

The further she walked the more her anxiety grew, until the smallest tremor or vibration in the ground would trigger in her the urge to flee. Her tail had taken up permanent residence between her hind legs and her ears were constantly swiveling in all directions, completely overwhelmed by all the noises she was picking up.

The rest of the day was broken into periods of walking and periods of rest. As the day stretched, Veronica was at least able to conclude that east was to her left and west to her right. She was on the west side of the river, but she still didn't know if she was going north or south. She was also getting closer to one of the mountain ranges. The one before her was risen high into the sky and crowned in white. As the sun waned, the bite of the wind became bitter and she found herself shivering.

She eventually came to a ford. It wasn't a bridge but an area of the river where the water became more shallow and passable. The water wasn't clear enough to see the bottom, but she guessed the water would come up just above her knees.

_I could cross here_, she thought, matter-of-factly. Then again, she didn't really feel like getting her feet and legs wet. She was chilled as it was. She couldn't see anything across the way that would prove helpful. No signs of sentient life. Just more grass. She sighed, _just keep following the river. Remember what New York, London, and Cairo all have in common. Water access means civilization._

The last light of the sun slipped below the horizon. Despite the lack of light, Veronica didn't find her vision so diminished that she couldn't make out her path. The stars were also a great aid. Veronica had never seen so many. In the city, at night, they were drowned out by all the street lamps.

She walked a while longer before deciding to stop for the night. Feeling exposed, Veronica forwent lying down in the grass in favor of remaining upright. Moments after her joints locked into place, she was asleep. Her rest was troubled, constantly interrupted by strange noises or the feeling that a predator was at her back. She missed her home. She missed her body. She was hungry. She was cold. She was scared. And she cursed whatever power had brought her here to an eternity in Hell (or Florida, in case Hell wasn't real). Were it physically possible, she would have cried.

Veronica woke again in time to greet the first light of dawn. Despite her disappointment to still find herself on four legs, the sight of the sun cresting over the dancing field gave Veronica a small sense of hope. As the sun broke over the plains, it overpowered the green pigment of the grass and Veronica found herself standing in a path of gold. The sun was a warm balm against her hide. She sighed. Something so beautiful couldn't be entirely wrapped in evil tidings. It was a truly peaceful moment.

And then that moment was gone. The wind rushed up to meet her and brought with it a dire warning. There was a pack of wolves close by.

* * *

Author Notes:

Reviews are welcome. If you have any questions, feel free to message me or find me on tumblr under the same name.

Part of what I want to get into in this fan-fiction is a flushing out of Rohirric culture. If anyone has a source that they enjoyed or head-canon that they like, I'd love to hear about it.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Sprechen sie Horse?

**_Bold italic_** is horse speech

**_"Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me where I might find platform 9 ¾?" – Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (2001)_**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Sprechen sie "Horse"?**

The wind brought to her the tidings of imminent danger. She smelled fur, blood, and death. _Run_ was an action before it even became a tangible thought. Something surged through her and an instinct as old as time consumed her. She ran in the opposite direction of the smell, closer to the mountains but further west and away from the river. The landscape rushed past her but she made no note of it. Movement was survival. Veronica wasn't sure how long she ran but she didn't stop till she had gone a considerable distance. Gradually, her breathing slowed and she came to a halt. She gauged that she had passed beyond some of the influence of the river. The grass was lower, tickling her ankles.

This time when the appetizing scent of the grass wafted up, she didn't hesitate. For several minutes she gorged herself. Her teeth cut eagerly through the tufts of grass. It wasn't the best tasting thing in the world. On a human level she would have equated it to snacking on rice cakes. The grass wasn't a delicacy by any standards but it went a long way to filling her stomach. There was also something about the act of chewing that made her feel better. She was regretting going so far from the river. Thirst was also upon her. She sighed, _I'll go further down towards the mountain and then double back to the lake, and hopefully it doesn't veer too far east. _She had no intention of crossing paths with that pack of wolves. Veronica had no desire to be eaten or even to hurt the wolves. They were just doing as nature designed them.

The danger behind her and her stomach full, Veronica locked her joints again and took a short nap. The wind still had a bite to it but it was soothed away by the warmth of the sun, allowing her to get a decent if brief rest.

She was just reawakening when she felt a stirring of the ground beneath her feet. Her head jerked up and her ears swiveled around to isolate the source. Horses. Lots of horses and they were steadily approaching. Veronica's tail twitched and her mouth pursed as she waited and hoped._ Here comes the cavalry, let's hope they're in a rescuing mood._

Her first glimpse of them was a multi-colored sea of horseflesh advancing over a hill to the west. The sun caught the sheen of the armor of their riders, temporarily blinding her. Her breath caught as she took in their numbers. They were many. She would have guessed over one hundred. If they meant her harm, she would be in real trouble.

They moved in unison, like a shoal of fish in the ocean, following the directions of a rider at the front. They stemmed just before her. Their leader swung down from his mount, gracefully. A pretty feat considering all the metal he had on him. Wryly, Veronica thought he reminded her of a moving tin can. A thick breastplate protected his chest, which was red in some places with designs embossed into the material. From the plate flared scaled armor to protect his upper arms and beneath that was a suit of chain mail. The accoutrement of his men was similar. She couldn't make out much of his face beneath the helmet. It covered both the sides of his face and his nose. Veronica mentally shook her head,_ when he gets out of all that stuff, he must feel ten times the relief I do when I take off my bra at the end of the day._

Maybe this is the past. The armor looked kind of medieval. She didn't much like that idea. Personally, she was still holding out for some fairytale land—preferably one where they didn't burn witches at the stake. Even as a horse, Veronica had several horrific things in mind she would rather be doing than witnessing the Burning Period.

She wondered how much communication was going to be a problem. _Well, this place is clearly magical. Maybe he can understand me._

She shifted a little nervously when he took the halter in hand. _Yeah, that's not happening._

When he didn't show any signs of stopping before he was within arm's reach of her, she backed up, tossing her head and pinning her ears back. "**_That's close enough… Can you understand me?"_**

Whether it was the show of aggression or her words, Veronica wasn't sure, but he did stop.

* * *

Théodred was eager for home. It never failed to fill his heart to see the Golden Hall of his father off in the distance. However, dread had also found a place in his chest. Each time he returned his father seemed to have aged considerably. His eyes weren't as sharp and without his sword, his hands were feeble. Actually, Théodred couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his father hold his sword. The king in Edoras had become such a far cry from the father who'd let him hold his sword before he had the strength to lift it. There was an aloofness between them that had never existed. He placed the blame squarely on the weak shoulders of his lord father's advisor. Grima was a charlatan, not a horseman. Sometimes just looking at the man, Théodred found his hand itching for his own sword—a reaction more becoming of the temper on his younger cousin, Éomer.

"Ill thoughts, my friend?"

Théodred was shaken from his dark musing by Leofwine, one of his riders, and a friend in his éored. He smiled, weakly, "No more than usual."

Leofwine looked unconvinced but didn't press the matter.

He didn't like to show his men the strain his father's growing dotage was putting on him but each day it became more difficult. This past month he had been even more troubled. The horse he rode currently was not his own. The beast was as brave and stalwart as any horse bred and reared by the Eorlingas but he was not the mearh he had rode since boyhood. That friend was gone now, claimed by the pike of an orc.

As the company passed further to the east, he became aware of an odd scene off in the distance—a single horse standing in the grass. Horses were a common sight in the Mark, but not by themselves and certainly not unattended. The éored was at least five leagues from the nearest village and treble that from Edoras. The solitary horse didn't run at their approach: a good enough sign that she wasn't wild. He changed his mind about ordering one of his men to corral her once he got a better look at her.

"How did one of the king's Mearas get all the way out here?" Another Eorling voiced the question he himself was wondering. It was true the Mearas were allowed to tarry in the fields just outside the city wall under their own will but they never strayed. Ever since Felaróf had surrendered to Eorl, the line of the Mearas had been loyal to the line of the kings.

With a sigh, Théodred dismounted and accepted a spare halter and lead from a rider. He was aware of the horse studying him. The Mearas were a singular breed. One only had to look in their eyes to see their intelligence. This one was no different.

His eyes widened a fraction when she retreated from his approach, displaying all the warnings of a horse about to kick or bite. She'd been calm enough as he'd started approaching and he'd been careful not to wander into her blind spots and startle her. He backed up a pace and took off his helmet, handing it to Leofwine to hold.

"Easy now, I mean you no harm…" He spoke softly as he approached this time, deliberately going slower than before. "How long have you been out here?" He asked her, paying more attention to the cadence of his voice then what he was actually saying.

* * *

With his helmet off, Veronica studied his face. He was handsome and she would have guessed in his late thirties. With the helmet off, his blonde hair was in disarray. Like the other man around him he was bearded. Not a ZZ Top level beard. It was better groomed and closer to his face. She looked him over appreciatively, _always was a sucker for a blond_. She shook her head, _priorities, Veronica!_ Yes, he was good looking but besides that, she saw a tired man. Strangely, it was almost as though she could feel worry and tension pouring out of him. She felt a little guilty about threatening to kick him.

At his question she perked up. Maybe he did understand her. She answered, **_"A little over twenty-four hours. What is this place?"_**

Her heart sank a little as her response clearly floated right over him. _It would have been way too easy_, she thought, sadly.

He kept talking to her as he approached. "It's alright, we'll get you home." She snorted. At the moment she was unconvinced of the help these guys could provide. This one intended to take her with them. Veronica mused that she didn't have much to lose by going with them. She couldn't talk to them but she could listen, bide her time, and collect information. Maybe, wherever they were going, there would be someone who could help; a Merlin or Dumbledore figure would be real handy. The idea certainly had more merit than staying out in the wild and being hungry, thirsty, and possibly eaten.

He reached his hand out slowly, towards her nose, but didn't touch her. Veronica caught more of his scent. She smelled horse, hay, metal, and well…him. She didn't know how else to describe the smell. Whatever it was, it was his own. His scent didn't hint at anything bad or dangerous, so when he got closer she didn't protest.

His hand came down to rest on her shoulder. It was an odd feeling—neither pleasant nor unpleasant, just alien. She started a little but he just made a soothing noise and started rubbing her withers. That actually felt nice. She felt soothed and safe. The sense of safety was the most alluring. A stranger touching her was not normally something Veronica would have welcomed. She also had a clearly American attitude when it came to personal space; an ideal distance for strangers was at least a foot. However, Veronica was starting to realize that she now had two sets of instincts guiding her—the horse and the woman.

_I am not a horse! Stop touching me._ She used her head to try and push him out of her space. However, he seemed almost prepared for the move, for he merely moved an arm up to block her advance.

"No." He spoke firmly but not over loudly. She huffed in annoyance, but stopped.

In a practiced move, he put the halter on her, his fingers deftly avoiding her teeth in case she decided to nip him. With the lead rope in hand, he started back towards his own horse, making a clicking nose with his teeth, probably indicating for her to follow. An immature side of Veronica wanted to balk, but she squashed it.

_Can't really blame the man for treating me like a horse… _

As he led her, she just kept repeating to herself, _I am me. I am me. I am me._

He tied the rope to the other horse's saddle, so she could walk in tandem with them.

**_"You are a strange one. How did you get out here?"_** She heard someone ask her a question and was startled to realize it was the man's horse.

**_"I really wish I knew. Where are we, anyway?"_** She asked.

**_"We are in the Westemnet."_** He replied.

**_"Oh."_** The name kind of sounded familiar but Veronica found she couldn't remember why. It nagged at her brain as they walked. She wondered if it was the name of the country or region.

She continued to talk to him as the company of riders resumed their journey.

**_"So, uh, what's your name?"_** She asked.

**_"The Men call me Brunfel."_** He replied.

**_"But the other horses don't call you that?"_** She clarified, wondering at his phrasing.

He seemed to sigh, **_"No, our names for each other are not derived from language but from smell. Something you would know if you were really a horse."_**

Veronica started, **_"How could you tell?"_**

Brunfel gave her a telling look, as if it should have been obvious. **_"You have our look and our senses but you resist them. Your mind is not entirely horse. You are strange. Even the skin changers we hear of from the North are consumed by their animal instinct."_** He explained, **_"I would caution you against letting your strangeness be shown. These are dark times. Our masters once welcomed strangers in this land, but not now. In fear they have turned suspicious."_**

**_"But there are other people who have turned into animals. These skin changers?"_** She pressed.

**_"Aye, there's a man who sometimes passes through these lands. He speaks to us as well. I like him. He actually listens to what the beasts of this land tell him. He told us about them."_** He explained.

Veronica felt herself perk up, hopefully. **_"Wait, this man can speak like us?"_**

Brunfel seemed amused by her eagerness, the same way a parent might be amused by a child. **_"Yes. He is a wizard. "_**

**_"Do you know where he lives?"_** She felt like she might burst and in her excitement lost her footing, slightly bumping into his side.

He gave her an irritated look. **_"Stop that."_**

**_"Sorry."_** She fell back into place but her tail still swung excitedly.

**_"You have the patience of a fowl."_** Brunfel said disapprovingly but continued his explanation anyway. **_"He lives everywhere. He is not like the other wizard in the black tower. Don't look so disappointed you may meet him yet. He tends to arrive during times of trouble."_**

She huffed, **_"Sounds like waiting for luck to happen. I've always preferred to make my own."_**

**_"Suit yourself."_** She could imagine him shrugging.

Undeterred, she continued, **_"So this other wizard who lives in the black tower. Where is it? Is it close?"_**

**_"No more than two days of riding. His tower is located by the pass between the two mountains. It is to the west and northward across the river Isen,"_** He said.

_Isen…_ Veronica felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. **_"Wait, what did you say the name of this wizard was?"_**

**_"I didn't. His name is Saruman,"_** Brunfel stated.

_Fuck me!_ Veronica stood shocked. It wasn't until the lead rope lost its slack that she realized everyone else was still moving. The world had only stopped for her. She fell back into step but she felt numb, barely aware that her legs were even moving. She felt lost in her own body.

Brunfel turned his head to look at her, concern leaking into his voice. **_"Are you alright?"_**

She looked at him blankly. Alright. What did that word even mean? She wasn't sure but she felt herself nod anyway.

**_"We're in Rohan."_** It was a statement, but the other horse answered her anyway.

**"Of course."**

_A horse is a horse, of course, of course…_ She swallowed, **_"And no one can talk to a horse of course—"_**

**_"What's that?"_** Veronica didn't even realize she'd been speaking aloud till Brunfel interrupted her.

**_"Nothing,"_** She replied. _I am just losing my mind._

It was funny. She had never been this tall or massive. Most horses weighed in at an average of 1,100 lbs, but she could never remember feeling this small. She was standing at the mouth of a warzone and it was about to open. The question was, how soon?

* * *

**_Author Notes:_**

Thanks to everyone who reviewed/followed and especially to Borys68 for providing the links to those stories and Elrond's Circlet for pointing out that typo. It has been corrected.

Mearh (Old English) – singular form of Mearas

Brunfel – brown hide

Burning Period – 300 year time frame of witch hunts, trials, and executions from the 15th to 18th centuries in Europe

All due credit to Ray Evans and Jay Livingston for "Mr. Ed"


	3. Xenia

**_"As much as I love historical fiction, my problem with historical fiction is that you always know what's going to happen". – George R. R. Martin_**

* * *

**Chapter 3: ****_Xenia_****; from the Greek. Hospitality.**

Rohan, a land of the mythic past: home of the horse lords and ground zero for the start of the War of the Ring. _Also, my current location._ _Fuck_. Okay, she had a where, now she just needed a when. Brunfel didn't say anything about Saruman being a traitor so the war clearly hadn't started yet, but how far ahead were they? A year? A decade? _Hell, for all I know Bilbo could be celebrating his 111__th__ birthday today in the Shire; a full seventeen years before Frodo even leaves for Bree. _

She looked at Brunfel, speculatively. _What are the chances of him knowing what day it is? I guess it couldn't hurt to ask._

**_"Um, Brunfel. Do you know what the date it is?"_**

**_"That is a human question."_** He protested but paused and tried to answer anyway, **_"I can tell you we are at the end of the long cold."_**

Okay, so maybe March or April. On the bright side, it looked like she was skipping another brutal Chicago winter. But what year was it?! She pondered how to ask. **_"You said these were dark times, what has been happening recently?"_**

He became grimmer as he answered**_, "Raids by orcs. They have been multiplying. They come down from the mountains and kill all they can."_**

Veronica shuddered. She remembered Tolkien's description of them. She had a feeling before the end of this misadventure she would see some. Her ears tucked back again.

Brunfel seemed to nod at her reaction.

_Wait a minute._ If this was Rohan, then the man who approached her would not have been speaking English; he would have been speaking Rohirric or maybe Westron. She spoke English and Italian and could understand a little high school Spanish but definitely not anything he would have been spouting. She looked at Brunfel's rider. _I should not have been able to understand you._ Veronica put a pin in that thought for another time.

**_"Who's your rider?"_** She wondered if he'd have a name she'd recognize. He seemed to be in charge and she knew a few of the names for the leaders.

**_"That is Théodred, the commander of these men, and the son of their herd leader." _**Brunfel's voice took on a note of pride.

Veronica felt her eyes widen. The reason for the man's somber and tired countenance was even clearer now. Years before the first Battle of the Fords of Isen, Saruman had worked to weaken Rohan and the primary target of his machinations had been the royal house. _Battle of the Fords: the first real battle of the War of the Rings… and the site of Théodred's death_. There was a man of flesh of blood beside her but Veronica couldn't help but feeling like she was looking at a ghost. Uncomfortable, Veronica turned her head down so she was looking at the grass.

**_"Where did you come from? You are so ignorant of this land," _**Brunfel asked.

Since she wasn't keen on trying to explain the concept of time travel to a horse, Veronica answered, **_"Another world, very different from this one... My name's Veronica."_**

The horse took her at face value, advising**_, "Well, you smell like an alright sort, so I would suggest, if you are able to, returning there. This is not a good time to be visiting." _**

_You don't say dot jpeg._ She thought, wryly.

_Oh!_ Possible clue, she perked up. Was Wormtongue Théoden's councilor yet? He'd been appointed somewhere between three to five years before the onset, but Veronica couldn't remember exactly. It wouldn't give her an exact date but at least would narrow the field a little.

_I need to be careful how I phrase this_, Veronica thought. **_"Their herd leader…he has advisors, right?"_**

**_"Yes…one mainly, the other men don't care for him. They have named him after a worm. He doesn't smell like the nice sort; more like something that slithers through the grass and bites when you aren't looking."_** Brunfel's disdain was unmistakable.

So, they were close to the start of the war. However, it still wasn't narrowed down enough for her liking. She needed a course of action but without knowing where she was in the tapestry (so to speak), it would be dangerous to try and formulate a plan.

**_"You are going to pester me with questions all the way to Edoras_**." It wasn't a question, but Veronica responded anyway.

**_"Probably."_** He smacked her with his tail and she laughed.

* * *

They'd been riding for some time when Leofwine finally broke the silence, clearing his throat. "Will we pass Lytburg and press on?"

Théodred smiled at Leofwine's query. "And deny many of my men the chance to see their wives? I wouldn't dare. We'll stop there for the night and depart on the morn. I don't want to tarry any longer than that."

Leofwine brightened considerably at his answer and seemed to sit straighter atop his mount. Lytburg was removed from the troubles of the courts. They would all be loath to leave. As the word traveled down the line through the éored there was an unmistakable lift in his men's spirits. More conversation picked up and some sang.

Théodred couldn't help but envy his friend the ease of his homecoming. Leofwine had been married for many years. His wife, Erna, was gentle unless crossed and they already had two children and another on the way. She was oft to tease him that he hadn't married yet. He would soon enough if nothing else than to fulfill his duty, but the idea mostly left him cold.

He felt someone staring at him. Turning to see who it was he found his gaze locked with the mearh. She turned her head away from him abruptly and he shook his head, bemused. _Odd beast._

* * *

Veronica had been following their conversation with interest. When the leader had looked over at her, she quickly looked away. _Oops._ Her tail swished back and forth as she waited for the man to turn his attention back to his comrade. As the men fall back into companionable silence, she relaxed.

The pace the men kept was steady. They stopped a few times over the course of the day allowing the horses to graze and take water. They were getting much closer to the White Mountains. Veronica guessed they would be in Edoras by the end of tomorrow. She would have been lying if she said she wasn't at all excited to see it. _The Lord of the Rings_ and to a lesser extent the _Silmarillion _had been her favorite bed time stories. As a literature professor, her dad had skipped over books like _Amelia Bedelia_ and gone straight for what he termed the classics.

She started to hear evidence of the village the men had said they would be stopping in. Her eyes perked up in interest. She could hear sheep; they drowned out most other sounds. They created a cacophony of animal calls and chewing. Soon enough, she was able to see for herself.

_That's a lot of sheep._ Veronica had been able to hear them a while off, but it was still interesting to see the white puffy animals interrupting the green vastness of the landscape. The animals were grazing close to what seemed to be a small village. There was a smattering of houses. They were fashioned crudely out of wood with thatch roofs, but they had their own rustic beauty. Hearing a shout from one of the houses, Veronica turned to watch as a woman ran towards one of the riders. He was barely on the ground before she had launched herself into his arms. She watched in amusement as he swung her around and kissed her full on the mouth. Some of the other riders were receiving similar welcomes. Théodred's friend was another one. A visibly pregnant woman had come out to greet him. Veronica mentally grimaced, wondering what it was like having a baby here. _No epidural. No, thank you. _

Other men began to make a makeshift camp close to the houses.

Théodred led them towards one of the houses that had a stable attached. Since they were following the couple, she could guess that the house belonged to the prince's friend. It was nice inside the stable; she and the other horses were shielded from the wind. However, the smell was a little overwhelming. It wasn't that it smelled bad but that there were so many different scent paths to follow. Veronica was relieved to see there would be plenty of room for her to lie down. She could sleep standing up but it wasn't very restful.

She and Brunfel were situated next to each other. She watched with interest as Théodred started to groom Brunfel. Another soldier came up to them, a bunch of carrots in his hands. Veronica was startled when she looked at his face. He couldn't have been older than sixteen. Shooting a glare at the prince, she said, **_"Really? The kid should be playing whatever your version of soccer is, not out with you lot, patrolling for monsters."_** Naturally, her words went unheeded. Théodred couldn't understand her and Brunfel was more interested in the carrots than her opinion on underage enlistment.

The boy gave Théodred a questioning look. At his nod, the esquire approached her, holding out one of the carrots. Catching the scent of the treat, she perked up. There was an unsure smile on his face as he neared her, holding out the snack. Being careful not to accidently bite the boy, she took the offering, not protesting when he started rubbing her muzzle as she chewed. The carrot was significantly tastier than the grass.

Théodred took one of the carrots and fed it himself to Brunfel. "Thanks, lad."

Veronica watched the boy leave before turning her attention back to Théodred and Brunfel.

Théodred caught her eye, "Don't worry, you're next."

_Oh boy…_

Veronica and Théodred had their second battle of wills a few minutes later.

**_"For Nahar's sake, Veronica, he's just trying to brush you—not skin you."_** Brunfel's voice was equal parts exasperation and amusement.

Veronica ignored the horse and kept dancing out of Théodred's reach, **_"No, really, I'm fine with being a little dirty; it's not a big deal."_**

The horsemaster was not deterred, however, and so after several minutes of the awkward attempts at dodging him in an enclosed space, Veronica finally conceded. She grumbled to herself, _fine, but try to braid ribbons into my hair and I will kick you._

The man was gentle as he worked, so she gradually calmed. He began to sing as he worked and his voice was pleasant. Veronica listened with interest; she wasn't familiar with the story he was referring to.

"Ere the Eorlingas settled in this land

They dwelled close to the Ered Mithren

A worm also called those mountains home

Robber, injurer, and enemy he was christen

And he made a bed on gem and bone

Though without wings or legs

He was still a drake

Through his voice he sowed discord and hate

None could withstand and soon all would forsake

Brother, friend, and ally in haste

For a long time he lay over his hoard

Till there came an Éothéod man called Fram

Who distracted him with words keener than sword

At the opportune moment he struck the beast's belly

Not realizing that he was still doomed to folly

For dragons curse the treasure they covet

Where lies a drake's hoard strife will follow

Although exalted by his folk

His name was cursed by the dwarrow

For he mocked the ancient claim they tried to invoke

In answers to their demands he sent in rejoinder

What he called rarer than the gems they sought

A necklace fashioned of the fangs of the monster

The dwarves redressed the taunt

By slaying Fram son of Frumgar"

His voice trailed off at the end and Veronica considered him quietly. Not the voice she would have expected from a man who looked like a rugby player or the gentleness.

_I really am sorry for what's going to happen_, she thought at him sadly.

* * *

Théodred was relieved to feel the mare relax under his ministrations. She had proved to be quite recalcitrant. Most of the Mearas were as a breed, especially to those not of the line of the king. Although, she had been downright meek towards Cengar. He'd been a little hesitant to allow the boy to approach. However, after their interaction in the field she'd made no other dominance displays and if the boy wanted to be a squire he needed the experience of dealing with different types of horses.

They didn't have a problem till Théodred started working out the burrs in her tail. She made a sound of protest as he hit a particularly snagged cluster. He grimaced sympathetically, "I am sorry, girl." She shifted on her hindquarters but didn't pull away. He endeavored to be more careful as he worked. Brushing her, he couldn't help but be reminded of Waeroch, the horse he'd lost. The mare's coat was the same white as his. In Edoras he'd need to choose a new mount.

Once he finished with the brush, he laid out feed for her and Brunfel before quitting the stable.

Théodred eased open the wooden door to his friend's home and laid aside his weapons when he entered. The house was welcoming. A low fire was built in the hearth and he caught the scent of dry herbs. Having only one horse to work on, Leofwine was already inside with his family. His son, only two winters old, was seated on his lap. He was trying valiantly to feed him but the child was far more interested in his father's beard than he was the food. Seeing the bearn give a particularly harsh tug at his father's whiskers, Théodred couldn't help but laugh.

Leofwine tried to glare at him but the expression was unconvincing against the mirth in his eyes. His wife, Erna, shook her head, "You laugh now, my lord, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time before you are gifted with the torment of children."

"That would require a wife first," Théodred said, unconcernedly, taking a seat across from his friend. "Hail, Erna."

"Hail, Théoden son." Erna smiled, placing a chalice in his hands. He drank from the cup before handing it back to her.

After she and her husband sipped from the cup, she laid a repast in front of Leofwine and their guest. Since they were still in the winter months, the offering was dominated by cuts of mutton. The smell of the roasted meat was enticing and Théodred watched gratefully as she filled his plate. Erna then sat next to her husband, making up a trough for the two of them to share.

"Where is Leofleda?" Théodred asked, realizing that he hadn't seen his friends' daughter.

Erna smiled. "She is out with her cousin, helping him keep watch over the herd. Many of them are ready to lamb, so it so good for him to have extra aid."

"That and weaving with you in the afternoon tries both of your patience," Leofwine teased his wife, but then more seriously, "It will be dark soon, she should be coming inside."

"She knows." Erna said, laying a soothing hand on her husband's arm.

He smiled at his wife but there was still lingering tension around Leofwine's eyes. Théodred could guess that his friend was thinking of the villagers they had spoken with closer to the fords who had spoken of orcs and Wildmen growing bolder; a few of the more outlaying ones had even been attacked. That would certainly be a main point of discussion between him and the king when they reached Edoras. They needed to reinstate the patrols west of the Isen; he didn't care what Grima said. As the Second Marshall, it was his duty to protect the people of The Mark.

* * *

No longer completely by herself and feeling considerably safer, Veronica pondered her situation. She found herself wondering if Tina had filed a report with the police yet. She'd been gone for more than twenty-four hours. Wasn't that the required time frame for reporting someone missing? It was so surreal to think about; no one ever thought something like this would happen to them. Or maybe time was only passing her by here and Tina didn't even know. She wasn't sure what was worse—the idea of her friends and family frantic over her disappearance or not aware of it at all.

She just needed to be patient. They were on their way to Edoras .If she was lucky, Gandalf would be passing through there soon. She couldn't even contemplate how she would deal if she was waiting for years. There was a part of her that was tempted to try and make for Rivendell; she'd bet that the elves would be capable of talking to her. However that would involve passing through the Gap of Rohan, close to Isengard. She shuddered. Then she would have to pray that she didn't lost along the way, killed by orcs, or captured by someone needing a mount.

Veronica lay down in the soft hay of the stall. She wasn't down long before she fell asleep. In her dreams, she was human again, walking through a forest. The thickness of the air gave the woods an otherworldly quality to them. Veronica felt like she could have been wandering for hours but the scenery never changed. Her bare feet snapped branches on the ground but she felt no pain. As she wandered, she came upon someone or something else. It was a man or rather a man-like being. He was far too tall and there was a ferocity in his eyes that was a little frightening. In his hands, he grasped a bow and arrow. There was a horn at his hip and at his feet, a great spear. When he turned and looked directly at her, she woke up.

* * *

**Author Notes:**

Wow, I did not intend to create that many OCs. For the sake of hopefully not confusing people here is the list:

Leofwine (_dear friend_) – a friend of Théodred's and member in his éored

Erna (_shy_ and yes, that's meant to be ironic) – Leofwine's wife

Leofleda (_dear beauty_) – Leofwine's daughter

Cengar (_bold spear_) – Esquire in the éored

Brunfel (_brown hide_) - Théodred's temporary mount

Thanks again to everyone who ready, followed, or reviewed:

Pepperymints, DeLacus, BobMagee, and WalkingIntoMordor: I was definitely trying to put something new out there and I'm glad you guys feel it has the potential to be that. I have where I intend to go with the story mapped out but of course I would always love to hear what you guys would like to see in the future.

Elrond's Circlet: Glad you liked it and that there were no typos. :-D I definitely agree it looks better to separate the quote from the chapter with the line.

hatethenamelimit: Thanks for the feedback. That list was for you and hopefully helpful for others as well.

And I think I'm going to start a round of "Ask the Audience"

If you could visit any place and age in Middle Earth for a day, which would you choose?

Feel free to shoot me a message on tumblr with any questions. I can be found under danigirltuesday


	4. Battle in Me

**_Update 2/9: Okay, I rewrote the last part of this chapter. In the end I didn't think what Veronica does makes sense with the way I intended her character to be and the way I originally wrote seemed too contrived._**

* * *

**_"When you are suffering, you become more understanding about yourself, but also about other people's sufferings too. That's the first step to understand somebody is to understand their sufferings. So then love follows." –Yoko Ono_**

* * *

_**Chapter 4: Battle in Me**_

The first thing Veronica did when she woke was a body check. _Panoramic vision? Check. Tail? Check. Olfactory senses up the wazoo? Check. _She sighed._ Nope, still a horse_. Even just in her dreams, it had been nice to feel human again. There were simple things she found she'd taken for granted; like scratching her back. Now the best she could do was use her tail to flick away irritants or try and rub against something. It was dark out but she wasn't tired anymore, actually she felt kind of rejuvenated. In the stall next to her, Brunfel still slumbered. A few of the other horses were awake, but the stables were mostly quiet. She killed a little time munching on some of the leftover oats and that brought the "chewy comfort feeling", as she had started to call it. Unfortunately, that didn't entertain her for long. Amazingly, she was bored. She considered the chain that served as a barrier to stop her from leaving the stall. At the end of the chain was a hook that connected with a metal ring, holding the chain taught at about chest height. _This should be easy, _she thought. As it turned out, it wasn't that easy. It took a few tries but she was able to grasp with hook with her teeth. It was difficult because she couldn't see what she was doing and of course the hook didn't taste that great so she spit it out few times. Then freeing the hook from the loop was entirely dependent on how she moved her neck. It took a bit of trial and error but she was finally able to pop it loose. The sound of the hook falling onto the ground was quite satisfying. _Ha!_ She gave the offending piece of metal a smug look.

**_"Veronica, what in Arda are you up to now?"_** The sound of her jiggling the hook had woken Brunfel.

**_"I'm just going to look around. I won't go far… Want to come with? I could probably undo your hook."_** She said proudly. At first she asked out of politeness but then realized she really wouldn't mind if he came along. They weren't friends per say but he was the only one here who at least knew her name. It made her feel less alone.

**_"Veronica…"_** His exasperation caused him to stretch out the syllables in her name.

**_"Yes?"_** She answered all innocence.

He sighed, **_"Just don't get lost."_**

She snorted, **_"This place is nowhere near big enough to get lost in."_**

Ignoring her retort, the horse went back to his snack. As soon as Veronica's hooves crossed from hay to grass and outside the shelter of the stable, she felt the kick of the wind. The village was so quiet in comparison to the city. There were no cars or trains constantly going by or the sound of people's voices on the street as they went from bar to bar. But what really caught Veronica's attention were the lights. Unlike the city there were no street lamps or headlights from cars to light the village but there were stars. Oh, were there ever stars—more than Veronica had ever seen in her life. She stared up at them for a long time. _So beautiful…_

On her own, Veronica was able to take a more leisurely look at the town. The combination of starlight and her adequate night vision allowed her to enjoy the vista. The homes were fashioned out of wood but they weren't crude. Most of them had horse and weapon motifs on the doors and support beams and she enjoyed going between the houses to see the different renderings. The homes hadn't been decorated by the same person nor a machine so there was an individual style to each of them. Many of the houses had gardens next to them. She could guess that the people here grew some of their own herbs, fruits, and vegetables. There was a good amount of space between the houses. The population was such that the people didn't need to live on top of one another.

Her ears perked up as she heard someone approaching and caught a familiar scent. Without even turning around she knew who it was. _Rut ro._

* * *

Théodred couldn't sleep. His mind was full of thoughts of returning to Edoras the next day. He left his guest room in favor of the stables. Being around the horses usually brought him some level of comfort. Or at least it would have. Upon entering the stables he noticed the empty stall where the Mearh had been. He stared at it, completely incredulous for a good moment. "Béma take that horse!" He cursed. At his expletive, Brunfel turned to look at him. The horse's look was eerily sympathetic. He sighed. Tracking down an errant horse was not how he wanted to spend the night. Unfortunately the mare was his responsibility and he didn't have much choice.

He pocketed an apple. Bribes were always a good tactic when chasing a horse. Hopefully she hadn't gotten too far from the safety of the village. Orcs weren't generally seen this far east but there were other dangers. Théodred lit a lantern and went outside. Mercifully, he found she hadn't gone far at all. She was just standing in front of one of the houses. At first he thought she'd fallen asleep, she was standing so still, but as he got closer, he realized it looked like she was studying the door. He shook his head. _How queer_. As he got closer, he saw her ear flick back in his direction and knew she had noticed his approach, but other than that, she was ignoring him.

"Psst." He made a sound between his teeth to draw her attention. Another ear flick to acknowledge the noise but other than that nothing. He glared at her. _Obstinate thing._

He crossed into her line of sight, but merely rested against one of the support beams, considering her quietly. The tension left her body once she seemed to realize he wasn't going to invade her space. She had a stubborn streak to rival the children of Éomund. He had some of it in him too. Their mother was his father-sister, but in his position, Théodred usually had to be more diplomatic. Surprisingly that trait was aiding him right now. He took the apple from his pocket, shining it against the linen of his shirt. When the horse caught the scent of the treat and turned her head, he smiled. "Hungry?" He held the treat out but didn't come closer. When she turned away, he sighed.

"I don't know what they've named you in Edoras but Lyfgast I will call you for you have a talent of escaping your handlers like a spirit on the air," He told her.

After a time, she seemed to lose interest in the door and started walking around. He followed but at a distance. So long as she didn't go from the confines of the village, he wasn't too concerned. She was looking out into the countryside and he turned his gaze to what she was looking at. He really did love this land; it was his blood. They walked together for a while and it was peaceful. After a spell, the mare returned to the stables and her stall of her own volition. He didn't bother putting the chain back. This time around, when he held out the apple, she came to his hand. He gently scratched her between the eyes, listening to her sigh in approval.

"Goodnight," he said, giving her a meaningful look and heading back inside.

This time when he lay back down in the bed, Théodred fell asleep right away.

* * *

Veronica slept on and off till the rising of the sun. She found that as a horse she didn't seem to need a solid block of sleep. With the first light of the sun came different members of the éored to ready their horses. Théodred and his friend and his family came in as well. They were back in full armor. Leofwine was holding a toddler who must be his son. The resemblance between them was very strong. The baby had the same deep gold shade of hair and button nose. The man was explaining to his son how to saddle the horse, placing different bits in his hands, like the bridle. A few times the baby would squeeze them with interest or try to stick them in his mouth and then drop them. His daughter's eyes were alight with amusement. Leofwine's wife was also watching the exchange with a look of contentment on her face. It was such an intimate moment that Veronica knew if she'd been human, she'd have felt like an interloper.

Too soon for everyone they were on their way. They actually reached Edoras before nightfall. Veronica and Brunfel talked along the way. Leofwine and Théodred rode in a companionable silence that spoke of the years of their friendship. Every once in a while Leofwine would glance back in the direction of the village.

Along the way, Veronica thought of such an obvious question to help her narrow down the date that if she'd had hands, she would have smacked herself. **_"The worm man who advises their leader…how long has he been doing it? Um, how many big colds?"_** She asked Brunfel. He may not know the date but if he called winter the "big cold" he must be at least marking the passage of time to some degree. _I'm such an idiot._

Brunfel seemed to consider. **_"About four, I believe."_** Anything he said after that was lost.

Six months to a year and a half—that was her time frame. Instantly, two voices in her head took up a debate.

Voice 1: _I can't wait over a year!_

Voice 2: _You don't have much choice._

Voice 1: _Fuck you. There is always a choice._

Voice 2: _What else are you gonna do? Run to Rivendell?_

Voice 1: _It's an option._

Voice 2: _Hmm…you have the horsepower but no GPS._

Voice 1: _I could make it._

Voice 2: _You could die._

Voice 1: _Call me an optimist._

Voice 2: _If you were an optimist you'd assume you only have six month to wait._

Voice 1: _Touché _

Okay, six months. She could handle six months, right? If it was longer, she'd brave the trek. As much as she wanted to brave the journey right now, she knew it was much smarter and safer to stay put. _I'll just think of it as a vacation; a very weird and long vacation_. She reasoned. Veronica almost believed herself…almost.

When they came to a smaller river, Veronica knew they were getting close. _This must be the Snowbourn._ Her first view of Edoras took her breath away. Tolkien had described the city as standing out of the mountains like a sentinel and it was an apt description. The Lord of the Mark ruled on high. The city was built on a great hill before the peaks of the White Mountains and surrounded by a formidable wall. The wood houses she could see rising above the wall seemed to defy gravity as they balanced on the steep incline leading to the summit. At the very top was the Golden Hall and there was no mistaking it. It was the largest and most impressive structure with a thatch roof that seemed to be made of gold when hit by the light of the sun. In that moment, Veronica felt reverence. The last time she had felt that way had been in the Louvre when she'd seen the _Grande Odalisque_, one of her favorite paintings, in person. The land around the city was lush, fed by the waters of the Snowbourn and some willow trees dotted the landscape. The elation she had felt at seeing the city become staggered when they passed by the burial mounds covered by the white flower known as simbelmyne. She cast an uneasy look at Théodred and shook her head. _Let it go, there's nothing you can do._ She wasn't going to play God with these people's lives. Besides, she was a horse. She couldn't play Cassandra to the Rohirrim's Trojans even if she wanted to.

To the east of the mounds, Veronica caught another sight she would not soon forget: a smaller herd of horses. The horses in the éored were beautiful but the ones of the distance were in a class of their own. They were as moving art—something incredible born out of your imagination with life breathed into them. The group was similar in appearance with coats ranging from paper white to some dappled with grey. It was hard to say for sure from a distance but a number of them were even bigger than the stallions in the éored.

"Missing your friends?" Théodred was also looking off at them.

_Huh?_ Veronica gave him a confused look.

**_"He thinks you're one of them," _**Brunfel supplied, helpfully. The idea seemed to amuse him. She chose not to feel offended.

**_"Well, this should be interesting,"_** she commented, not sure if she should be flattered or worried. She just wanted to blend in and hide out till Gandalf came.

_Whoa._ Veronica couldn't help but crane her neck once they reached the wall. If she had to hazard a guess, she would have said it was about twenty feet tall. The base was stone but most of it was wood. She grimaced; a few flaming arrows and there would probably go your main defense. She didn't even want to think of what you could do to it with a bit of black powder. _It's okay, Edoras does not get attacked. I'll be safe enough here._ She reasoned with herself.

The doors swung open, allowing them entrance. A stone path began, leading up the hill with a stream from the Snowbourn running quietly beside it. The rungs on the hill were each a combination of residential and stores. As they climbed higher, Veronica concluded that there didn't seem to be any zoning. Along the stone path was mostly stores and what looked like a large pub or inn but dirt paths diverted off towards other businesses and houses. Some of the houses did get larger as they ascended and Veronica would have bet a few of them belonged to Théoden's riders. Not far from the Golden Hall were two other impressive structures: an armory and a stable.

The group had trickled off as they'd filed into the city. She assumed some of the men were seeking their homes, friends, or whatever lodgings they had to offer. A smaller group was with them when they entered the stable. Théodred had to jiggle the lead rope to get her attention, because upon entering the stable, she had stopped dumb. The royal stable was an eye opener. First there was the sheer scale of the building—it could have housed about fifty horses. Also, the space was richly decorated; there were many reliefs carved into the wood. It was a little faded but a lot of the building had been painted gold and green.

Théodred called over a man who seemed to be in charge. "I believe you lost one of your charges," Théodred's voice was edged with disapproval, as he indicated Veronica.

In response, the hostler's eyebrows went straight into his hairline. His expression went from impulsive panic to confusion.

"I'm afraid I don't recognize her, my lord, if you'll follow me." Outside, he looked out at the east field and nodded as he counted the horses with his hands, "Aye, Scéohlence, Déor, Forstgytha, Fahsted, Windfola, Snowmane, and Shadowfax. All the Mearas, saving Firefoot, are in yon field."

Veronica shifted uncomfortably as the hostler and prince looked between her and the horses in the field. _Well, this is awkward._

"Théodred!" A female voice cut across the yard.

_Saved by the bell._ Veronica breathed a sigh of relief when everyone's attention shifted from her to the tall, blond woman striding towards them.

* * *

Éowyn was in her room when news of her cousin's return reached her through one of the servants. Her chamber provided her some sanctuary away from Grima, while allowing her to stay close to her uncle. She always felt a little sick when leaving her rooms in anticipation of feeling Grima's eyes on her. Her uncle's eyes saw nothing and when his lips moved, it was Grima who spoke. Wormtongue—the moniker her brother had given him was apropos and had caught on quickly. She paused in front of the mirror on her way out and practiced a smile. It was hollow but it would have to do. She didn't like to show her full burden to her cousin or brother.

Rushing through the main hall, Éowyn spared a quick glance at the dais. Her uncle was still napping, so his seat was vacant but sitting on the steps was his councilor. Quickly, she averted her eyes, not wanting to feel that combination of rage and revulsion that came every time she saw him. She hated that he felt he could look at her the way he did without fear of reprisal and she was angrier still that experience proved he could: especially when her brother and cousin weren't around. She hadn't know what hate was until recently but she had no doubt she felt it every time she was in his presence.

Outside, she was grateful for the rush of brisk air that filled her chest. It felt dead inside that hall most of the time; the air didn't move and time seemed to stand still. She spotted Théodred just outside the stable. Excitedly, she called his name and stalked towards him. If she hadn't been afraid of tripping in the dress she was wearing, she might have run. She embraced him, not minding that she couldn't actually feel him beneath all the armor. She felt a gentle squeeze to return her embrace and then her cousin was holding her back to study her.

"You look tired," He said, sadly.

"As do you," She rebuffed his concern with a small, teasing smile. She nodded at the hostler, who excused himself.

"Éomer is in Aldburg, I take it?" He asked.

She knew they tried to schedule patrols so she wasn't always on her own, but sometimes it proved impossible. "Yes…" She trailed off, really noticing the horse at his side for the first time. Théodred visibly tensed when she approached the Mearh.

"Éowyn—" He made a move to stop her but she had already reached her hand out to allow the horse to gauge her scent.

The horse puffed a little air at her hands so it would be easier to scent and allowed her to continue approaching. She threw a questioning look back at her cousin who was glaring at the horse. "So, you'll behave for everyone except me, it seems." He said, conversationally. The Mearh ignored him and he just rolled his eyes.

"Where did you find her? She's not one of ours." Éowyn gently run a hand along her shoulder. She didn't understand Théodred's concern; the mare was placid and well behaved towards her.

"In a field in the Westfold. She was just by herself." Her cousin was bemused. And so was she, they hadn't know there were other Mearas in the land not bred by them and this one didn't seem wild. A wild horse would never have let her or Théodred approach let alone touch her.

"Hmmm, I wonder if anyone has ridden her before. She doesn't seem wild," Éowyn observed.

"Éowyn…" His voice took on a warning tone. Sometimes Théodred acted as much a father to her as Théoden.

"Don't look so worried. You know how attached I am to Windfola." She gave him a wry look, "Still, she looks stronger and larger than the other mares. I'm sure she would produce magnificent offspring. We could try breeding her."

* * *

Veronica had been observing the White Lady of Rohan in quiet awe. _I can't believe how young she is._ She knew from reading the books that Éowyn was in her early twenties at the time of the war, but seeing and reading were turning out to be two very different things. The woman was tall, if not very beefy, but Veronica could imagine the material of her dress hid some muscle. _Shieldmaiden_. _Witchking Slayer. Princess of Ithilien_. Veronica's head was starting to spin. However, Éowyn's last statement jerked her from her star struck musings better than a pale of cold water to the face.

_Hey!_ She glared at her idol and gave an indignant snort.

"Perhaps," Théodred's reply was non-committal but not enough so for her liking. She turned her head to glare at him as well. _I will kick you where it counts._

_Should have booked it to Rivendell while I had the chance_. She groused.

Théodred led her back into the stable with Éowyn and to her relief deposited her in the stall next to Brunfel like last time. She'd take anything familiar she could get. This time around when Théodred went to brush her, she didn't protest. Partially because she didn't think it would do any good and partially because she'd developed a real bitch of an itch on her left flank and trying to rub her side along the wall of the stall had done squat.

On their way out, Veronica heard Théodred leave instructions for her care. The hostler was told not to let her out into the east field with the other Mearas for fear she'd run off.

_Great. Now I couldn't even leave if I wanted to_. She thought, glumly.

* * *

Théodred and Éowyn had fallen into a comfortable and relaxed silence as he worked. The stable was a hallmark for both of them; having spent their childhoods in and out of it. The sound of the horses, the smell of fresh hay, and the familiar painted walls were all comforts of better days. However, now, reentering the Golden Hall, they both became tenser. The main hall was a flurry of activity with servants pushing tables into place in preparation for the evening meal.

"I'd best go wake uncle," Éowyn murmured.

He nodded, watching her go. His mouth became set in a grim line when he noted he wasn't the only one. Noticing his scowl, Grima looked away but not fast enough for his taste. Shaking his head in disgust, he headed for his chambers. In his rooms, he removed his armor and made use of a water basin that had been prepared for him. It wouldn't fully eliminate the smell of the road but it would do until he could have a proper bath later.

When he exited, he could see Éowyn down the hall leading his father. They were walking arm and arm, but he could tell that Éowyn was largely supporting him. For a moment, the present disappeared and he saw a phantom image of a younger version of his father chasing him down the hall. He was laughing in delight at the game and his father was hearty and hale. It was a stark contrast to the man in front of him now. Now, his father was not only physically frail but there was a mental vacancy that Théodred had never thought he'd see. Éowyn had confided in him that a few times the king had mistaken her for his sister. It scared him. An orc he could fight and Grima, he could sometimes thwart his plans, but old age—there was no weapon for it.

Éowyn smiled when she saw him. His father's reaction was more indifferent, but he shrugged off the sting and took his place at his other side to help him to the hall. Between the two of them, they got Théoden to his chair and seated. Everyone was standing beside the tables when they arrived, only taking a seat once the king had. Éowyn made up plates for him and the king. People talked during the meal and afterwards some sang. It was actually pleasant. Théodred looked around the hall in approval. Not all was lost.

* * *

The rest of the evening passed without incident for Veronica. Even though she would have liked to explore, she resisted the urge to try and undo the chain of her stall and slip out. If she was going to hide out here, she needed to keep her freakish displays to a minimum. Mostly, she chatted with Brunfel.

**_"So…do you have a mate?"_** She asked, figuring that would be the horse equivalent of a wife. She didn't really know much about him.

**_"Not yet this season, but last season I was with Blostma and Leoh,"_** he replied indicating two different mares. **_"They are both expecting foals."_** He stated, proudly.

**_"Um, congratulations,"_** she said_. Fun fact: horses apparently are poly._ She had a friend back home had always been in poly relationships. When she'd asked her about it, Diane had explained that she thought it was unrealistic to look for everything you needed in one person and so long as everyone was informed, didn't see a moral problem with being in multiple relationships. Considering the divorce rate, Veronica wasn't entirely sure that she was wrong, but still didn't think that scenario was right for her.

When Veronica saw Théodred the next morning, he'd clearly had a bath and a shave. The beard wasn't gone but definitely better groomed. She was interested to see that the bath had changed his scent. He tensed when he saw another man entering the stables, but not visibly. At least, Veronica didn't think it would be a change susceptible to the human eye but he was projecting it to her and the other horses.

Physically, the man didn't look dangerous or intimidating. He was shriveled looking with beady eyes. The second she caught his smell, her mind screamed "snake" and she fidgeted restlessly. If Donald Rumsfeld, Madeline Albright, or Littlefinger had walked in, she bet they would have smelled the exact same_. This has to be Wormtongue_. At first she wasn't sure. The man had greying blond hair and whenever she imagined him, she couldn't help but think of Brad Dourif. Even with eyebrows, the man was unsettling.

She heard Théodred sigh as he acknowledged him, "Grima. What brings you to the stables?"

"I was curious at our new addition," he said, indicating her.

"What of her?" Théodred asked, impatiently.

Grima smiled, thinly. "It's strange is all. An intelligent breed of animal only bred here as far as we knew, except this one… turning up during these troubling times. It would be a clever guise for a spy and not the first time the enemy has used animals for such means."

Veronica's ears turned back. _Asshole._ To her relief, Théodred seemed amused by the idea. He reached out a hand to pet her. "Well, Lyfgast, are you a spy?"

She laughed, inwardly, **_"Nope, but he is."_** _I just wish you could actually understand me to hear it._

Grima was less than amused by Théodred's response. He was still smiling but it was a more a baring of his teeth and his eyes flashed. He opened his mouth to say something else but then stopped, spotting something. It was Éowyn. She was coming into the stables but stopped when she met his eyes. Veronica knew the look on her face. Every woman who had ever had a man openly leer at her butt on the bus, decide that dancing with her meant he suddenly had the right touch her sexually, or took her refusals to be bought a drink as a challenge knew that look. It was a combination of fear and anger that came from wanting to lash out over feeling subjugated.

Veronica had felt it before and she knew Éowyn was feeling it now. It was all in her face. It was funny there were thousands of years of history separating but some things were still universal.

Later she would wonder if it was the stress of the last few days coupled with watching a woman being sexually harassed, but in that moment she felt so much anger and frustration that her vision went black and she couldn't see a thing. For several moments, it was like being in a sensory depravation tank: she couldn't hear, see, or feel. She didn't even realize she had struck out to bite Grima till she heard his yell of pain. Her teeth still held purchase on him arm and he frantically lashed out at her head. The impact startled her into letting go and he fell backwards in a heap, desperate to get out of her range. He brushed off his robes as he stood, glaring at her and then at Théodred who had just watched.

He gave Grima a bored look and shrugged, "She's a little feisty." Éowyn's eyes were wide with shock, but they gradually slanted into satisfaction. With one last glare at Veronica, the worm stalked from the stable, his arm held protectively to his chest.

She sighed. _Well, so much for keeping a low profile._

* * *

**_Author Notes:_**

The OC Mearas:

Fahsted (foe stallion)

Sceohlence (moon skin)

Forstgytha (frost gift)

Deor (brave)

Thank you again to everyone who followed and reviewed.

Certh & SimplyWalking: I would like to thank you for taking the time to give each chapter their own review, I really appreciated it.

Elrond's Circlet: I'm glad you're enjoying the story enough to follow it, that certainly motivates me to keep writing. And again, thanks for the eye out for typos.

Countdown: Writing from a horse's perspective is a challenge and it's nice to hear that a reader feels I've had some success at it. Thanks for reading!

LOL its LOTR: Welcome and thanks for your enthusiasm. The chapters are getting longer and more involvws to write, but I'm hoping to keep my update time frame within 7-10 days.

You can also find me on tumblr under the same username.

To answer my own question, it may be an obvious choice, but I'd like to see Rivendell but when Celebrian and more of the elves still lived there.


	5. Vacation, All I Never Wanted

**_"But I don't wanna kick the other kid's butt." – Mulan (1998)_**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Vacation, All I Never Wanted**

Veronica backed further into her stall and turned around. She just wanted to be left alone. It was bad enough being in a foreign body but to not even feel like she had control of that body was even more distressing. Especially considering as a horse she was capable of doing a lot more damage if she lost control of herself. She'd only experienced that once before when she was in grade school. A boy had been picking on her one day and it had finally escalated at recess to where he was stalking her around the school yard. She'd turned around with the intention tell him to leave her alone but instead had experienced that blackout. When she could see again, he was holding a tooth in his hand and there was a shocked expression on his face that had directly mirrored hers. It was the first time she'd ever punched someone in her life.

**_"I fear that was not wise, young one."_** Brunfel said, interrupting her thoughts.

**_"I know,"_** she snapped, not in the mood to hear an 'I told you so.' She sighed, instantly regretting it. **_"Sorry, I do know, I'm just tired and I want to go home."_** Even to her own ears she sounded whiny, but she missed home—the two bed apartment she and Tina had been sharing for the past few years. She missed her bed and the smell of the lavender candles Tina left lit in the living room. Heck, she even missed the stray grains of litter Button sometimes kicked out of his litter box.

She started a little when she felt something warm brush her side. Turning, she realized it was Brunfel. To her great surprise, he was nuzzling her. Closing her eyes, she found it reminded her of when she was young and her father would rub her back after she had a nightmare. She was utterly drained from the confrontation so several minutes later, once the remaining tension left her, she locked her joints for a quick nap. Before falling asleep, she whispered, **_"Thank you."_**

* * *

Théodred watched with narrowed eyes as Grima stalked from the stables. By the time he'd turned his attention back to the Mearh, she had presented her back to him and her tail was swishing irritably. He wasn't sure what the cause of her strike against Grima was. However, he wasn't entirely surprised at her reaction; many of the horses seemed uneasy around him and she would be stressed enough in a new environment. Over the years, he'd learned that like people, horses didn't like change.

Hopefully with time to adjust to her new surroundings, she would calm. She at least seemed to have formed a small bond with Brunfel. When the horse had reached his nose into her stall, Théodred he had momentary worried that she would take offense at the intrusion, but she had docilely allowed the brown stallion to nuzzle her.

He looked over at Éowyn as she paused in front of the Mearh's stall. Her face had fallen back into the stone mask she seemed to be wearing more and more. His cousin considered the horse quietly, her face gave nothing away, but for a moment he believed he saw a flash of gratitude in her eyes. He nodded at the saddle in her arms, "Going for a ride?"

She nodded, an excited smile emerging. "Will you join me?"

He shook his head, regretfully, "Perhaps another day, cousin. There are some things I must speak with the king about this morning." His father was more lucid in the mornings; if he wanted any hope of speaking with the king instead of just Grima, it would need to be earlier in the day. It was with that thought in mind he went back to the Golden Hall.

Théodred found his father on his throne. Sadly, he observed that Théoden was so hunched over that rather than looking like a symbol of his authority, the chair more resembled a prop. Grima hovered over him like a dark wraith. The man had recovered his dignity, showing none of the fluster from the incidence in the stables.

"Hail Théoden King," He intoned, not even acknowledging Grima. "I bring a report of the state of the Westfold."

His father acknowledged him with a nod of his head. At least Théodred hoped that was the intended gesture and that the king wasn't about to fall asleep.

"The Wildmen have been crossing the fords and causing mischief in the outlying villages. They harassed some farmers in Éoslade and Westslade, destroying crop beds and taking some of their animals. We are also seeing an increase in orc activity. I believe that we need to reinstate the patrols west of the fords and increase the patrols through the Westfold." As Théodred gave an account of his patrol through the area, he hoped to see some fire kindled in the king at the plight of his people, but his expression barely changed.

It was Grima who responded to his entreaty, "This is indeed…troubling news. And of course these villages will be provided food to make up for their losses, however, I must disagree with you about the patrols. The lands west of the Isen are not our concern. We are not at war with Dunland. Surely you don't believe a few incursions by vagabonds past the fords should warrant a full offensive? Perhaps it would be better to dispatch a handful of men to stay with some of the villages?" He addressed the second question to the king who nodded.

Théodred swallowed his displeasure. "And the increased patrols?" After a lengthy pause, he pressed, "Father?"

The king seemed to stir at last, "Very well."

"As you command," he said, executing a quick bow and quit the hall without looking back. He went to seek out Grimbold about taking up a constant patrol around the Westfold. Since he was from Grimslade, which was near some of the towns where the Dunlendings had attacked, Théodred was confident he would take up the task with due brevity.

* * *

As was typical, Veronica hadn't slept long but when she did wake, she felt refreshed. Théodred and Éowyn were absent. There was fresh feed in her tray and she quietly followed Brunfel's example, eating her breakfast with the other horses. After they finished, and determined to distract herself, she endeavored to learn more about her new acquaintance.

**_"Do you like it here? I mean, do you ever wish you were free?"_** She asked.

**_"These are good men, Veronica. If given the chance, no, I would not leave,"_** He responded instantly.

**_"But you've seen fighting with them…doesn't it bother you that they use you to fight?"_** She wondered at the greater implications of belonging to the Rohirrim.

The look he gave her was patient but she got the sense she was in for a lecture. **_"You don't seem to understand that we have a partnership with these men. We are not their tools. We belong to this land as much as they do. Why would we not also fight?"_**

Veronica gave him a doubtful look, she'd never agreed with the use of animals in warfare. Frankly, she didn't agree with war in general. From what she'd seen, it was just a tool for the rich to get richer. Sure they dressed it up with pretty messages of freedom and honor but in the end it was about who controlled the world's resources. Then again, this place was different; most of their enemy was cut and clear evil.

He sighed, **_"Maybe you will understand someday."_**

**_"Maybe,"_** she said, still mentally repeating to herself that she would be out of Edoras and hopefully Middle Earth all together before she had the opportunity to test it out.

Veronica's attention was redirected to the hostlers, who were starting to lead horses from their stalls.

"**_What's going on, now_**?" She started a little. It was wearing on her to be moved around by other people. It reminded her of being a child in a day camp where someone else had mapped your day out and was constantly moving you around according to their schedule. She was an adult; she was used to making her own plan and executing it. Her independence was the thing she most valued back home. Here, it was the thing she most missed.

**_"They're going to put us in the west enclosure."_** As if sensing her lingering irritation, he tried to be reassuring. **_"It's nice, plenty of room to run around."_**

**_"But fenced?"_** She enquired. If she ever wanted to leave she would have to make her escape from outside the walls. She didn't imagine if she just walked up and knocked politely the guards would open them for her; though it did make for an amusing mental image.

**_"Yes,"_** he confirmed her suspicion.

As Brunfel promised, there was plenty of room to run around. The fenced area outside the wall of the city was as large as a football field. The fence was high enough that just thinking of trying to jump over it gave Veronica mental images of catching her back legs on the wood and breaking her neck. _Ow, yeah, we'll keep that plan as a last resort_. She thought, grimacing.

She was standing in a group with Brunfel when another horse, moving towards a fresh thrush of grass, shoved her out of the way.

**_"Hey, watch it."_** She snapped. There had been plenty of room for the horse to maneuver. The mare ignored her and started chewing. Veronica looked at Brunfel, **_"What's her problem?"_**

**_"She considers you beneath her in the order of the herd…you can challenge her if you like."_** His resigned tone indicated that was exactly what he expected her to do; though he didn't sound disapproving. Maybe establishing order in the herd was a just a way of their life. However, she was surprised she was being included in it.

**_"I'll pass…and last time I checked, I wasn't part of a herd. You know, and I assume they do, that I'm not really a horse."_** It was an observation and question in one.

She got a 'you silly child' impression from him, before he launched into an explanation. **_"Even the men who ride us are subject to herd order. If they were not leaders we wouldn't listen to them. You may not be a real herd sister, but you still fall under the same rules. Because you are in this form and, if I am not mistaken, share many of our instincts, you are also governed by our ways."_**

**_"Joy…fine, I can play along…for now."_** His explanation was enlightening and a little worrisome. She had been aware from day one of the struggle between her horse and human instincts. What if she eventually lost her humanity? Grimly, Veronica was reminded of a book she read in grade school about a girl who winds up in a chimpanzees body after being in a near-fatal accident. The girl adjusted and made a home with other chimps but the story had always depressed her. _That's not gonna happen to me. I won't let it. _She reassured herself. _If Gandalf can defeat a Balrog and come back from the dead, then de-horsing one human should be a cake walk for him._

Voice 1 made a short return: _The cake is a lie_.

Out of nowhere, Veronica felt a quick sting in her flank. She whirled around to see another horse, which was again, trying to nip her. **_"Can I get a break?"_** She asked Brunfel, dancing out the black horse's reach. **_"What do I have a 'challenge me' sign on my butt?"_** Considering the size difference between herself and the other horse, she was surprised he'd try to mess with her.

Brunfel snorted**_, "If he was trying to challenge you, you'd know it. This one just wants to play."_** When the horse gave Brunfel a speculative look, he was warned quickly, **_"Don't even think about it, Geong."_**

The other horse turned his attention back to her and started kicking up his hind legs and tossing his head. **_"Play, please."_** Veronica was a little startled to hear the youth in his voice.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say she didn't know how when she realized that wasn't entirely true. She was having a sympathetic reaction to his movements; an urge to mimic them. She acceded to the urge, making a playful lunge towards him with her teeth. Geong neatly dodged and then did the same. Unlike her earlier snap at Grima, there was no heat behind either of their movements. They played the 'I will bite you' game for several minutes before cantering off across the field.

As they were running parallel to each other, Veronica threw a challenge at him. **_"Race ya,"_** she said, indicating the far end of the enclosure. As she picked up speed, she heard him yell, **_"Not fair, your legs are longer."_** However, his complaint didn't stop him from gamely chasing after her and laughing. She slowed a little, letting him catch up. It felt good to run; natural. Narrowly, she let him beat her. She usually did the same thing with her cousin's children when they were playing board games.

A mare further down the field let out a call and Geong's ears perked up and he neighed back. **_"That's my dam,"_** he explained. **_"I'm Geong."_**

**_"Veronica,"_** she supplied her name.

**_"I have to go. She probably wants to groom me,"_** he said, heading back. A little lower she could hear him murmur, **_"I hate bath time."_** Veronica snorted in amusement and trailed after him and back towards Brunfel.

They spent most of the day out in the field and the time passed peacefully. The only incident occurred a little later in the day when she had to make a show of teeth at a stallion that was trying to smell her rear of all things. Despite being odd, she was accepted into the herd and its order. By the end of the day, Veronica could tell where everyone fell in the hierarchy order of the herd. It mainly seemed to come into play when they were fed. Amusingly, she noted it was the older mares that ran the show as opposed to the stallions. She made a choice to hang back with the more juvenile horses when it came time to eat, having zero interest in getting into a fight with another horse.

By the time they returned to the stable, she was fairly tuckered out and ready for some real food (oats not grass, please) and a nap. When she woke again, the sun had set.

When Théodred came in, she got the sense he'd had a bad day. If he'd been dealing with Wormtongue, she could understand why. To her surprise, he came into her stall and sat across from where she was laying down. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair, making a matted mess. For a while, the two of them just sat in silence. Tension poured off him, making Veronica feel fidgety and uncomfortable. A little hesitantly, Veronica got up and went over to rest next to him, lightly nudging him with her muzzle. Like she'd seen Geong's dam and other horses do, she used the flat of her teeth to smooth down his hair. Gradually, she felt the tension drain from him. She didn't pull back when he reached out to scratch her sides. She was getting more and more used to being touched. Her horse side seemed to put strong importance on it. If she let go of her pre-conceived human embargo on it, it was completely natural.

With the warmth of the Mearh against his side, Théodred gradually drifted off. In his dream he was in full armor, on a field with his men. The sky to the east grew dark and when he turned his head, he saw the sky to the west do the same. Darkness was closing in on him and his eored from both sides. All around him, his men were fighting. Théodred tried to join them but found he could scarcely move. His movements were slow and hampered as if he were wading through thick water. Time and time again he would try to raise his sword arm to defend one of his men against a vicious assault from an orc, only to have them cut down before his eyes, before he could even raise his arm all the way. The frustration he felt in the dream was such that when he woke, he could scarcely breathe. He could feel warmth against his face from where hot tears had fallen. Brushing them away, he became aware that the Mearh was nuzzling him again. He rested his face against her neck with a sigh. "I'm just so tired," he murmured. When he pulled back, he found the horse's gaze to be full of empathy and he found that made him feel not completely alone. There was nothing to fear about the mare seeing his weakness.

* * *

And so it was, Veronica fell into a comfortable routine in Edoras during that first few days. During the day, she and the other horses were out in the western enclosure. She got to know some of the other horses, especially Geong's dam, Surefoot. Surefoot was a mild-mannered black horse. More often than not, she saw Théodred in the evening; the man was a consummate insomniac. However, at the end of the week, she had her first off day, where she woke in a black mood.

She couldn't have said for sure what made that day bad for her. Maybe it was the establishment of a routine; it gave her more time to think about her predicament. Seeing the bonds between the horses also made her think of people she missed, and though she tried not to let herself think that way, there was a part of her that worried that she would not see them again. There was her father who was the quintessential absented-minded professor, Tina her college friend who had moved in with her after she'd gotten divorced, Alice the book store owner who reminded her so much of her own grandmother, and then there was the city itself. She was born and raised in Chicago and she'd never imagined living anywhere else. That was home.

This time when one of the hostler's came to lead her out, she pulled back on the rope. She was in no mood to socialize with the other horses. She just wanted some alone time. There wasn't much the man could do. In a contest of strength, he was no match for a 1,000 pound animal. In the end they had no choice but to leave her in the stall. The time by herself actually helped. She was able to collect and sooth herself and identify part of the problem. She was under stimulated. Back home she was always working; always doing something creative. She was an art director for a magazine back in Chicago. Well, she was going to have to find some way to entertain and engage herself, especially at night when Théodred wasn't around.

* * *

Théodred spent much of the week organizing a schedule of patrols between his men and Grimbold's. Grimbold may not have had the numbers that Théodred's muster did, but it should be enough to handle a small raiding band. After one of their discussions, the two men sat up late drinking one night, telling stories of better times.

The next morning, when Théodred woke, the Golden Hall was a flurry of organized activity. He found his cousin at the center.

"…and the rushes need to be changed. They are starting to emit an ill smell." She was directing the servants for the daily upkeep of the hall. Her instructions given out, they rushed off to complete their tasks. The corners of her mouth quirked upwards when she saw him. "Good morning, lay-a-bed."

"I did not mean to sleep so late." He shrugged, sheepishly.

"I merely tease you," she assured him.

"You are becoming a very able chatelaine," he commented. "It will be a boon to your husband when you marry."

Éowyn nodded, acknowledging the compliment but didn't appear over enthusiastic about the idea. Théodred sighed inwardly. _If she would only show even half the interest she does in sword play towards a man… _The only man he'd seen her take any shine to was Elfhelm, but she never spoke of any more romantic interest in him and as far as he knew, Elfhelm had never approached his father about marrying her. He was one of the few men who would spar with her, so at least she knew he wouldn't try to stop her from practicing if they wed.

"And the woman you marry will be lucky as well," she said. It was a complimentary, if not too subtle, turning of the tables.

He grinned, but obliged her in dropping the subject.

As she turned back to a servant with a query, he became more thoughtful. He would have to marry soon. He had a duty to his people but he wanted what his parents had had, even if it was brief. Théoden had married for love once and refused to re-marry after his wife died in childbirth. He hadn't met his mother but his father's stories alone made her flesh and blood to him. Some stories he had heard so often they felt more real than memory. His problem was he had yet to meet a woman he felt that kind of connection with. Although, to be fair, his duties kept him busy, especially as of late. He wasn't entirely sure when, but they had left times of peace. His concern was that with time running out, he'd have to make the decision based more on duty than love.

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind but whenever he found himself idling, it would come back and haunt him.

* * *

There was nothing to blame but his thoughts for why he couldn't sleep. Fur blankets warded off the lingering chill of the winter and his father's halls were quiet this time of night. Giving up on sleep, he roused himself from the bed and dressed. He sought the refuge of the stable. Before he even knew it, he was heading towards Lyfgast's stall. He wasn't sure what it was about that horse, but he felt calmer when he was around her. Anyone who'd ever had a pet knew there were just certain animals, that for whatever reason, you felt a connection with. His people called it a meeting of the souls.

She turned around as he approached and gave him a look that he interpreted as, 'You again.'

He smiled, producing a few cubes of sugar. "I know better than to come empty handed."

She sniffed the new treat experimentally before grabbing them with her tongue. He stroked her gently, enjoying the sensation of the smoothness of her coat beneath his hand.

The Mearh had been with them for a little over a week and besides the initial incident with Grima, had shown no aggression towards anyone else. The hostler's said she was easy to handle, didn't pick fights with the other horses, and no longer danced around when it was time to be groomed. It was true, they also reported a few days where she was off her feed and thankfully more rarely would refuse to leave the stall for exercise. However, those instances had become scarcer.

Veronica chewed the cubes, thoughtfully. She hadn't been a fan of raw sugar as a human but she found she really enjoyed these. With interest, she noted that he seemed to have some mending with him. However, he also seemed to have the process in reverse. She was pretty sure you were supposed to sew the tear close, not reopen it.

Meeting her gaze, he smiled, "Éowyn offered to fix this, though she doesn't have much skill at sewing. I didn't have the heart to refuse her even though I knew I'd probably have to redo it later." He offered her an explanation as he undid the stiches. Before the work was unraveled, Veronica was able tell the first few stiches weren't so bad but as the tear went on, it looked like she had lost patience and worked more hastily. She wasn't surprised that Éowyn didn't have the patience for the task but she was surprised that Théodred knew how to sew. Then again, if he was off for a long time on patrols and his clothes got ripped along the way, she supposed it would fall to him to fix it.

With an appreciation for irony, Veronica felt amusement knowing that the skills she had considered mostly useless back home would be considered the most useful here—sewing, crocheting, knitting, and the like. She'd liked having something for her hands to do when she was in front of the television and had jumped from craft to craft.

"Much better," Théodred said, knotting off the end and snapping the thread with his teeth. He held it up, "What do you think?"

This was part of what she enjoyed about Théodred's visits. He talked to her like a person most of the time. Apparently it was another universal experience. She was the same way with Button, Tina's cat. Although, after this experience, if she ever did get home, she might be more mindful of what she said.

She snorted her approval and he laughed.

She both anticipated and dreaded these visits. While she enjoyed his company, she was wary of forming any attachment. It was a memorable tragic parallel in the books that the two eldest sons of the leaders of the nations of men lost their lives within a day of each other. If she was really lucky, she'd be human and home before that. In the meantime she would avoid getting attached. Unfortunately, Théodred was not making it easy.

* * *

**_Author Notes:_**

Thanks to everyone who followed, reviewed or favorite this story. Your support really keeps me going.

Sorry this chapter took a while to get up. I had a hard time getting it the way I wanted it.

Simplywalking: Thanks for that catch. That is definitely not the sentence I meant to write. Glad to know I haven't made Tolkien's characters OOC.

Elrond'sCirclet: I totally forgot to post a question. J Thanks also for your grammar catch. Glad to know the story has your interest.

LOLitsLOTR: With the way I have the story mapped right now; I certainly plan to have Veronica meet the Fellowship (which will naturally include Legolas). However, as much as Veronica would enjoy bucking Grima, I don't think he has the cajones to try and ride a type of horse that is reserved for the royal family. But I can definitely emphasize with having an update take a while. It's hard when you get stuck or just can't get something right.

Just to clarify the timeline:

Early TA 3014: Grima becomes councilor to Théoden (_Unfinished Tales_) – This is the date that Veronica is foggy on, which makes her unsure.

July TA 3018: Gandalf imprisoned in Orthanc

September TA 3018: Gandalf escapes Orthanc and comes to Edoras

This week's ask the audience: Who is your favorite character from the books and/or movies? If there's a switch between the two mediums, that is interesting to know.

For questions, spoilers, etc you can PM me or find me on tumblr under the name danigirltuesday.


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